My Posession
by Magdaw
Summary: Being a pokemon master is a dream for many in the world of pokemon. But there are many good reasons why most never make it. Rated M for later chapters. Crits encouraged.
1. Chapter 1

Why do we need disclaimers anyway? We're not making a profit from this, and it's a fan fiction. Emphasis on FAN. What's the point in it?

Note: Anything on this fic is inspired by the GAMES ONLY (and a bit of imagination). I don't watch the anime, therefore if something doesn't look correct in comparison to the anime and it annoys you, this may not be the fic for you.

Chapter 1

Leaves rustled as a sudden gust of wind brought the woods to life for a brief moment. The air was misty, glimmers of moonlight shining on the dew of the ground and vegetation. But other than the moon's reflection, it was pitch black and now silent once more. The cold mist swirled above a wet, muddy floor of decay. Rot was the only scent of this place, and it wasn't just the leaves that were rotting.

A body tumbled and squelched into the mud. A single, bear, outstretched arm prevented the body from falling in any further. From it a boy's head hung. His hair was brown, or at least it would have been if it weren't for the darkness as now where it was soaked in blood it hung down black as death, obscuring his face.

There was a moment of silence. The only movement from the boy's body were waves of shivering. His shoulders hunched and his free arm was held close to his body. Dressed simply in a black t-shirt and black jeans he had no way of protecting himself against the biting cold. He just stayed in one place, steam billowing from his mouth.

A whimper croaked from his throat before the teenager's arm gave way, sending him splashing into the mud before he had the energy to change his weight. His face hit the ground with a slap, and the shivering stopped.

'_October 3rd. 2008. I got a diary. I know diaries are for girls, but if I'm going to be a pokemon master, I'm going to have to keep one. Who knows when it might come in handy._

_It's my birthday today. I'm 18. Big deal. My parents make a huge fuss about it, telling me how I have to be responsible and shit like that. They expect me to get some big important job just because I took a basic ass course in literature (which I failed, but I won't tell them). Well, that's not the way things are going to work out. I can't stand fat office bastards that sit around typing on their little computers all day. I mean, where's the fun in that?_

_I'm going to make it big in the pokemon league. My buddy Daniel knows Professor Oak who gives out starter pokemon. He told me I should be able to get one so long as I don't have a criminal record or shit like that. Good for me, I don't. Lots of people think I'm girly just because I wear black eyeliner. I'd better not get some pink cotton candy pokemon. A dark pokemon, now _that_ would be cool!'_

Something screeched in the woods, and the boy's whole body jerked. His eyes opened wide, revealing their shimmering shades of cold blue. His pale skin was covered in muddy blotches and the right side of his face, facing upwards, was caked in dried blood.

A deep, hoarse coughing forced its way out from his throat. He didn't try to get up, though. He held his arms close to his body and curled up on his side, squeezing his eyes shut. He fumbled around with his right arm, half in the mud, to make sure what he was carrying was still there. It was; soggy and heavy was his backpack as he held tight the strap slumped over his shoulder.

'_October 5th. 2008. I just got this backpack sent over from my uncle Davie in Hoenn. It's a specialised trainer's backpack with all the pouches and shit for placing things when I get them, like potions and pokeballs._

_Me wanting to be a trainer was just between me and Davie, because he's a trainer and I was sure I could trust him. The rest of my family all hate pokemon training, especially my parents. They jabber on about it being brutal and shit, and I just nod and smile. In a few days I'm gonna grab my first pokemon, get my backpack and say sweet goodbye to this place. Pallet Town is way too dull for me to spend the rest of my days here. I need to get out in the open, y'know?_

_I decided I won't take the Kanto League challenge. I'm off to Hoenn. I'll catch a ferry there and meet Davie at Slateport. I don't know shit all about what I'll do afterwards, but it'll be good!'_

Cries of men echoed off the fungus infected trees. The boy shivered in silence, listening out for them getting any closer. He tried to recall the stage of events that had led him up to this moment. How he had been so stupid as to try and steal. A shiny pichu would have sold for a bucket load, but the price for his temptations were unknown. He remembered, running the film of memory over in his head, wishing he had just stayed clear of the pokemon and left it alone.

The first thing that came to memory, before the events that had led him into the forest, it was about eight pm. A skinny man left his dark prints on the sand, shaded blue from the fading light. The dark came early in Autumn, and the roar of the waves warned of turbulence to come. White foam rolled in from the sea, but it was too cloudy to see the moon, so the man couldn't tell if the tide was coming in or not.

He had the collar of his long, khaki coat up as a windbreak, but it only seemed to flutter feebly in the gales, just like his mousy blond hair. His eyes squinted and his thin eyebrows fell. The receding hairline was clearly visible and his sharp, bony features had aged well beyond his true years. But with a straight back and eyes fixed ahead of him he looked ready to take on even the forces of Mother Nature. Pale ribbons were his lips, but he had them still and under more control than the average person. His eyes were probably the most startling thing about him, as white and blue as the sky on a sunny day, eyelids pink and fleshy, unlike the papery skin given to him by Slateport's erratic weather. They were the only indication to his true youth.

Sat on the stone wall feet away was a boy, probably in his late teens. In his hand he held an open diary. He wasn't writing – only reading. Pale blue eyes peered out from flat, wet looking brown hair that seemed far past its due cut. It didn't seem to bother him to be shaking the hair out of the way every few minutes. Habit had sorted that. Hanging at his lower back was a backpack. It seemed unusually loose, like he had deliberately fixed it that way. The bottoms of his baggy jeans had strains of light, frayed material trailing from them, living undisturbed thanks to their wearer's disregard for anything tidy.

At his feet at the bottom of the wall was a helmet-like object. It was settled on the tiny dunes of soft sand and at first appeared still. Then the grains of sand began to stir. The dull, dome body began to slowly turn in the sand. Sharp little claws made their appearance, scuttling like those of a crab to get into a more comfortable position. Beady black eyes peered out from the front which were turning to face the sea. Rapid movements in its legs kicked up a few sand particles as it shuffled with its front pincers before it settled again, laying still for there was no reason to have to move anymore.

"Are you going to name your Kabuto?" The older man mentioned.

"I started calling him Ancience." The boy on the wall close to whispered. He had a relaxed tone in his voice.

"Dean, do you even know if…" Davie frowned, as if he felt sorry for the Kabuto for having an unusual name, "…Ancience… is a he?"

Dean looked up and squinted his eyes as if he hadn't understood the question. "He looks like a he."

The older man, known by his nephew as Davie, grinned and gave out a chuckle. Lines formed around his mouth as he did this. "Ancience – she's a she."

"Bullshit. How'd you know?"

"Remember, when we took her to the centre for a check up. I thought I'd ask while we were there."

Dean just stared with his eyes squinted from the hair that was flying around in his face. He shifted his feet and looked down at the pokemon. This one hadn't been resurrected from a fossil, like most of its kind. This one had been bred from a small colony existing wild. Nevertheless, it still seemed to have the same absence in its consciousness as its prehistoric ancestors. As it sat there motionless it seemed like a robot awaiting a command. A creature so primative it had no memory, no compassion and no free thought. It would only respond to its most basic instincts.

"Ancience!" Dean called. There was a moment of silence, but no reaction from the crustacean. He gently tapped it with his foot, provoking it to instantly retract its sharp limbs under its shell causing its body to lower a little.

"I thought you said this was a good training spot."

Davie looked round at Dean who was clearly bored. He nodded and started to head for the concrete steps. "It's late. We'll take a look around town tomorrow. Find some trainers, make Ancience strong."

"Sounds like a plan…" Dean heaved himself down from the wall and picked up his pokemon by the sides of its shell, its four legs outstretched and feeling around to get a footing. It seemed unaware it was being carried as its red underbelly eyes blinked on and off. "Tomorrow, I'm going to set myself a goal to beat someone."

"I hope so." Davie chirped.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The midday sun beat down on the carpet of different coloured stripped stalls that was the marketplace. Crowds of people of all kinds swarmed around the streets, looking for a good bargain, or just a greasy barbecue stand to grab a quick snack at. The smell was overwhelming – there was always one close by, but never seen for the masses of people in the way. There was always a radio playing at one of the stalls, sometimes the tin-like sounds of more than one radio merged.

Dean was clearly uncomfortable. He had a blue baseball style cap on, sheltering his face from the sun's burning rays. Still, he frowned with his hands in his pockets and his backpack hanging low, how he liked it. He trudged after Davie who seemed just as frustrated with the crowds blocking the way. Davie grumbled, trying to keep his temper under control. In the Autumn heat wave, it seemed ridiculous that he wear his heavy coat.

There was a build up of people and Dean had to stop on his tracks. The human traffic jam had given him a second to eye up a girl, roughly his own age. She was in light pink and white, her dress in one piece and as light as a feather on her. She was looking at some CDs at a stall, giving Dean the chance to get a little closer. Long eyelashes and the glaring sun gave the impression that her eyes were almost shut. She wasn't paying any attention to the Hoppip on her head, sitting lazily between her pig tails. The creature's tiny mouth ballooned in size as it yawned.

"Dean, c'mon." A voice snapped him out of his stare.

"Dude, a trainer." Dean pointed at the girl, looking back at Davie for approval.

Davie stood and stared at the girl, who appeared to be moving closer to them as she casually browsed the stalls. His eyes went that squinted way again before he shook his head.

"She's got a grass type. It's not a good idea, we'll keep looking."

Dean swaggered off, away from Davie, and closer to the girl. He appeared interested at what was on the stalls, ignoring Davie's hissing at him to get away from her. He picked up a glass ornament and pretended to be interested in it. It was a polar bear. $15. A bit pricy for the size. She was getting closer. He took a quick glance in her direction, feeling her presence. For a second her eyes seemed to light up at the cute little ornament in his hand, before she caught his stare. She recoiled and swiftly made her way around him, pretending not to have noticed him. He couldn't help noticing the glumness in her face, before he reached into his pocket for his wallet.

He could see Davie flailing his arms angrily and mouthing obscenities, but his protests had no effect on him. Davie's hand went over his eyes as he shook his head, at the same time Dean tapped the girl's delicate little shoulder. Her round face turned to him reluctantly.

"E-Excuse me?" She whispered, barely.

"I… um…" Dean began, "This…" He presented the shiny ornament, "I thought you might like it."

She turned round to him with a quizzical frown. "Do I know you?"

"No. Are you a trainer?"

The girl rolled her eyes and smiled. She stared at him confidently smiling more before she answered in almost a whisper, "No."

Dean sighed quietly to himself, trying not to seem disappointed with her answer, but had let the grim expression on his face give it away. Nodding, he apologised and began to head off.

"Boy!"

Dean stopped. Her tiny voice tugged at him like a leash, and he couldn't go any further. Turning around he smiled, not thinking about the strange way she had caught his attention. No one had called him "Boy" before and had it been anyone else, he would have probably have taken it offensively.

"I'm not a trainer, but my Hoppip likes to fight now and then." The girl smiled sweetly in the glaring sun. From her head the red tomato-like pokemon slowly drifted like an umbrella down to the littered floor. It made a lot of odd faces, trying not to land on its back or on its delicate leaves.

Dean turned round to Davie and grinned smugly, gesturing that he was right, and Davie was wrong. In a split second Dean tore a pokeball from his belt and threw it at his feet, causing it to explode in a red falsh. Bystanders jumped and stopped to stare when Ancience was revealed. It didn't seem comfortable in the heat, on the solid concrete. As it walked its shell scraped across the ground and it seemed confused as to where it was meant to be going. A circle had formed around the two combatants as the small crowd eagerly anticipated a battle. When Ancience stumbled into the edge of the circle an old man kindly picked her up and sent her off in the right direction.

"Rouge!" Everyone stared at the girl. "Use that new move I taught you. Giga Drain!"

The Hoppip, much more active than it had been before, started to prepare itself for attack. It done a little dance as it went, just to show off.

"Ancience! Do… something…?" Dean's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe as he tried to think of what kind of attacks a low level Kabuto has. "Scratch?"

Before the Hoppip had time to attack, a blur tore across its body and sent it skipping across the floor like an odd-shaped bouncy ball. Ancience was now at the other side of the circle, making a vicious hissing sound. She stood up on her hind claws and extended her front pincers, hoping to delay the Hoppips actions even further by frightening it. The pokemon's prehistoric mouthpieces rattled from its underside.

The Hoppip appeared unfazed by the display and just stumbled over in front of Ancience with its mouth open. A green energy snaked its way through the air until it reached the tiny creature's enormous mouth. Ancience did not move, and neither did the Hoppip. When the energy was gone the Hoppip trotted over to its trainer, seeming quite pleased with itself.

Ancience was still standing in that same stance like a statue. The pink underbelly eyes had stopped glowing and her front claws were outstretched as if she were passionately reciting poetry. Dean crouched over to see his pokemon. He tapped her shell. She wobbled a bit, before falling onto her front with a painful snap, legs and pincers still outstretched. A sickening feeling came over Dean. Picking up the lifeless pokemon, he noticed one of her legs on the ground, the joint in a puddle of yellow slime where it had once been joined to the body.

Picking up the leg in one hand he cradled Ancience in the other. He looked into her underbelly eyes. Before they had glowed too bright to see in, but now he could notice two pinpricks of light, like pupils, in the primitive eyes. The dots shined, barely. They shot over in Dean's direction. For a moment Dean could swear she was looking right at him, as if she freely chose to look into his eyes. He hoped maybe she had some kind of rudimentary conciousness, an ability to feel on an emotional level. The mouthpieces crunched a little before the lights in her eyes faded completely.

"I wouldn't worry." The girl tilted her head, "Come with me. I'll help you take it to the pokemon centre." Dean looked up at her. " Don't look so sad." She smiled "It'll grow back."

"Don't you think you've caused enough damage here!" A gruff voice boomed from behind Dean.

The girl's expression turned from carefree to sheer terror. Dean stumbled as Davie shoved passed him, yelling and swearing at the girl. Dean could barely watch as the girl's eyes welled up and her lip trembled at the assault of words thrown at her. He could barely believe the words coming out of Davie's mouth. He could only yell about abuse towards pokemon. What had been a friendly fight to Dean was to Davie… abuse?

He'd had enough. Dean sipped away past the crowds of people and towards a pokemon centre.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

That night was still. On the Town's edge, light became scarcer and the only aids to sight were sparse street lamps and starlight. Conifers towered into the night sky like black cones. Occasionally the sound of smashing glass echoed through the forest, coming from the main road that went along one side of the forest parameter. There was a small, outdoor basketball court, surrounded by wire fencing. One side of it had a door, wide open, allowing members of the public to come and go as they please.

Something smashed again, and the screeching of a cat followed. A figure chased away the feline before returning to the wire fence where he had been leaning. He was alone, and quite clearly in a terrible mood. He took another swig of beer, and frowned in displeasure. Despite the foul taste, he continued to drink it.

"Dean!"

Blue eyes angrily lifted themselves toward the source of the sound. He looked around into the darkness, a shadow figure catching his eye standing under the peachy glow of a street light, on the other side of the road. It took him a few seconds to realise the voice was Davie's.

"Your Mom's been on the phone. She wants you to call her."

The only response to what Davie had just said was a half-finished bottle of beer hurling in his direction. Luckily Dean's aim wasn't very good, as the closest it got to Davie was about ten feet in front of him. It smashed into pieces, beer spraying and foaming in all directions. Davie just shifted his gaze away and sighed.

"Are you drunk?"

"Fuck off!"

Davie strolled towards his drunken nephew and stopped right in front of him, hands in pockets. Dean was on the floor, looking at Davie's feet. His lip pouted like that of a child who didn't get his own way. His pose was comparable to that of a moody gorilla, arms folded and brow straining to cover his eyes.

"It's late. You can't stay out here all night. Its getting cold."

Dean didn't even notice how cold it was getting until he'd been told so. He began feeling it biting at his sunburn and his body began to shiver involuntarily. He tightened his arms closer to his body, as if to prepare for a long night. He wasn't moving for anyone. He barely noticed Davie planting himself next to him. Davie sat with his arms over his knees. He tilted his head to look around Dean.

"Got any more bevs?"

Dean frowned, not yet used to the Slateport slang, and looked for his backpack. From it he pulled out two bottles of some cheap brand. Too inebriated to hold the bottle opener properly, he handed both bottles to Davie and left it up to him. Silence filled the air like water. They both sat there with their drinks like two bums on a street corner, but a feeling of satisfaction had entered the air. Something squeaked above them, and Dean looked up to find several wild Zubat darting around in the air.

Like little bluebirds they stood out against the black sky, illuminated by streetlight. "What are thay?" Dean asked.

"Zubat, dumb ass."

Dean squinted his eyes, but had no success in focusing his vision. It required for him to lean forward to heave himself onto his feet, and it took a good few seconds for him to gain balance and get used to standing. He suddenly felt a bit of nausea, but ignored it and swaggered confidently over to the middle of the basketball court. He stood like a spinning top ready to topple over any second, and probably felt like it, too. He appeared to be fumbling his pocket for something… or his belt. A red flash of light illuminated the area like a flare for a split second before a three legged Kabuto was revealed, vitality regained from an hour spent at the Pokemon Centre.

"Come on down, you fucking flying rats!" Dean bellowed and stumbled from his own voice. His yelling was only rewarded by a swoop from one of the bat-like pokemon, its wings skimming his head. Hair stuck up for a while before falling back into place.

From the wire fence Davie chuckled to himself as Dean spun around, frantically looking for the speedy creature. It took him a while to find it fluttering and biting at Ancience's shell. Ancience seemed slightly annoyed and slowly pulled her remaining legs back underneath her body, as if she could tolerate the attack to an extent.

"C'mon Ansssince… Attack, you pussy!"

Ancience wasted no time. It was as if, given the excuse, she was quite happy to fend off the annoying little creature. She lifted the front of her shell to reveal her pincers (leaning slightly to her left due to the extra weight put on her remaining left leg). She hissed and seemed to freeze, as if she was waiting for the Zubat to come round from her shell to the front of her body. Her shell appeared to shine like metal, in no way Dean had ever seen before.

"That move is called harden. Remember it!" In the state Dean was in, Davie wasn't sure if he would.

Dean didn't even seem to pay much attention to Davie. "Scratch… Use scratch!" He hesitated, undecided as to whether that was the right move or not. He guzzled the last of the bottle and threw it over the fence, causing more broken glass.

The fluttering mass was taken by surprise when Ancience pounced with her pincers and delivered a quick jab, rather than a scratch. Like a plane shot down the Zubat tumbled to the ground, but quickly regained its senses and flew to a safe distance. It hovered, wings flapping at a frantic speed to keep airborne. The sight of it was tense – it appeared to be doing noting with its mouth gaping open. Dean looked down at his Kabuto, watching as her scuttlers wriggled and jerked in discomfort as if she could hear some incredible noise, causing her to topple onto her back. Her eyes didn't glow red, but changed colour by the second from vivid green to blue and even purple.

"Dean! She's confused!" Davie jogged over and put a small round blue metal ball in Dean's hand. "Throw this at the Zubat!"

He seemed unaware as to what he was doing. He stood and looked at the ball for a while before throwing it in the Zubat's (general) direction. When it hit the ground it made a metal 'tink' sound before opening and sucking the bat into it in a display of bright light. Like a vacuum the device made no allowance for the weakened creature to get out. There was barely a shiver of movement from it after that.

Silence engulfed the air once more, except from the tapping sound of Ancience's feet aimlessly wandering. Seeming bewildered, Dean staggered over to the great ball that contained his new pokemon and picked it up. He just stared at it.

"Good work, mate." Davie wandered over to Dean and gave him a friendly slap on the back.

With that, Dean thrust his head forward and brought up his drink.


End file.
